A Pair of Glasses and Pumps
by Chiddie
Summary: A new Naya photoshoot, and after recovering from a sexual frustration-induced explosion I proceeded to write HeYa fic.


Title: A Pair of Glasses and Fuck Me Pumps

* * *

Heather feels like she's going to faint.

Or rip his throat out.

Don't get her wrong; Bowie's a nice guy.

But god, with Naya looking like that, and him all over her, she…

God.

Remember Heather. It's for a photoshoot. It's for a photoshoot. It's for a photoshoot.

Heather and Naya, they're secretly dating. They have no problem being out, but they have to take in consideration thousands of girls who'd probably die if they did.

So yeah. Secretly dating.

They were secretly dating in bed when Naya got a call from Fox. They were sort of busy, but it's Fox, so they couldn't just ignore it, could they?

Heather was admiring the view as Naya answered her phone. Naya probably placed it on speaker, because Heather could hear snippets of conversation from both parties. Even though she was distracted by said view, she was able to gather that Naya, along with Lea, Cory, Matt, and Jane, would be starring in a promo shoot for Fox. No words on her and the other members of the cast, but she really didn't mind, on her part. Being famous is scary.

Anyway, a week after that wonderful, wonderful night, Heather accompanies Naya to the studio. She kisses her a 'see you later' on the cheek before Naya enters the dressing room. Once the door closes, Heather moves towards a pick-up truck nearby, and leans on it as she waits for her girlfriend (_girlfriend!_). A shadow falls on her right, and when she turns her head, she sees Bowie smiling at her.

"Heather! Good to see you again!"

She smiles back at him. Bowie's a really cool guy; he's friendly and sweet, and kind and funny. No wonder he's Naya's favorite photographer.

"Good to see you too, Bowie."

With his hat and beard, he would look like Vincent van Gogh with glasses. For some reason, it amuses her.

"So, I've heard that you and Naya started dating. It was about damn time."

Heather replies by crunching her nose at him. That's what people tell them all the time. Seriously, they're like those crazy shippers Naya keeps telling her about. Speaking of which,

"You know we aren't out to the public, right?"

Bowie nods.

"Telly told me to keep it on the down-low. Can I ask why?"

"Have you heard of Tumblr?"

"Oh. The shippers."

Heather nods reverently.

"So, how's the photoshoot going?"

"Not bad. Speaking of which, I have to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"You won't mind if I get a little bit touchy with Naya, will you? The producers have this idea of promoting the promo shoot, so I'll be posting some pics on Twitter to get some hype."

"No, not at all. As long as you remember that we're dating," she says with a smile.

Seriously, though, why would he have to ask permission? If Naya's okay with, sure. It's not like she'd punch a guy for looking at her girlfriend the wrong way.

Okay, she might have done that once.

But she was drunk, okay? Cut her some slack.

Bowie looks at his watch.

"I guess they're starting the photoshoot. Naya's probably there already. Bye HeMo."

"See you later Bowie."

He smiles, and then leaves towards one of the warehouses.

Heather slouches back against the truck. She should have brought one of her books.

"Hey Heather!"

A crew member passes by. She seems to be heading towards the photoshoot.

"Hey Angie," she smiles.

"You waiting for Naya?"

"Yeah."

"You can go watch them shoot, you know. Just don't steal the light bulbs this time," Angie laughs, as she disappears through the warehouse door.

Yes!

Heather skips towards the warehouse. She enters, and looks around, searching for her girlfriend. She looks at the middle of the crowd, where the photoshoot itself is, and—

Fuck.

Heather walks closer to the center.

It's like having a religious experience.

Naya's there with Bowie, facing the director as he instructs them on what to do. Heather's eyes travel down her girlfriend.

Her hair is dishevelled (think after-sex, Heather would know), and her lips are painted a stunning red. On her body is a blazer covering a skimpy dress, barely a dress at all, actually, that emphasizes her glorious behind, and leaves her legs wonderfully bare. Heather's eyes continue further down to see her wearing on her feet her famous fuck-me pumps.

Oh shoes, what wonderful suggestions you have.

Heather goes to the nearest spotlight and grips its iron stand.

Refuse yourself Heather. Sacrifice for the greater good. Control your urges. Do not jump on her. Repeat. Do not jump on her.

God.

The director's finished talking, and while Bowie walks to the center of the set, a crew member hands Naya something.

Oh god.

They're trying to kill her aren't they.

Heather's grip tightens around the spotlight as Naya walks towards Bowie and puts on the glasses.

The director shouts.

"Okay guys. Scene one, Naya's line: 'I'm going to kiss you now.'"

_What._

Naya flips her hair over one shoulder, and then holds the frame of her glasses with her thumb and forefinger. She looks at Bowie with bedroom eyes, while Bowie stares at her lips. Something forms in Heather's throat, and she's scared that she'll leave behind imprints in the spotlight stand.

Lights flash, and they're ready for the next scene.

"Bowie's line: 'You're going to what?'"

Heather watches Bowie's eyes widen as Naya turns to look at him directly in the eyes. The thing inside Heather's throat trembles.

Once again, the lights flash.

"Kiss him on the cheek, Naya."

Naya whips off her glasses, like Superman only a million times hotter, and leans forward to place her lips on Bowie's cheek. Bowie himself looks ridiculous, his mouth agape and his eyes as wide as ever, but Heather can't really blame him. Still, that's _Heather's _girl. She can't help the noise rumbling out from her throat. It resembles a pterodactyl roar, and attracts the attention of several crew members. They glance at her, but realizing who she is, they turn away.

God, how long is this going to take?

The lights flash.

Please, _please_, is it done?

"Bring in the wagon."

Noooooo.

"What do you mean you can't find the wagon?"

Yes?

Heather watches as a crew member talks with the director. Please, _please_, let her off…

The director sighs.

"Okay Naya, Bowie. Take a breather. Five minutes or until the crew finds the wagon."

Good enough.

Heather releases her grip on the spotlight—she can practically hear it creak in relief—and she runs towards Naya, who's lingering at the edge of the set. Her girlfriend sees her, and a smile lights up her face.

Heather rushes to her and grips her shoulders.

"You. Me. Empty room. Now."

Naya laughs.

"Hello to you too, Heather."

"Naya," Heather whines, "I'm serious."

Naya grins, and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything—

"We found the wagon. Back to position."

"I'm sorry babe. Directors orders."

Naya kisses her thumb and uses it to touch the tip of Heather's nose. She walks back to the middle of the set.

"That's okay, Nay," Heather says in a small voice. "I'll just go to the bathroom."

She feels like sobbing.

3


End file.
